


Misery is not Opposed to Company

by SweetSorcery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming Out, Kissing, M/M, Missing Scene, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the night of the "Goblet of Fire" Yule Ball, and Harry is miserable and confused. Snape isn't helping. Or is he?<br/>(This was inspired by the deleted GOF scene in the courtyard.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misery is not Opposed to Company

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Harry is underage, but nothing more explicit than kissing happens here.
> 
> Disclaimer: The canon is owned by JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Warner Bros. etc. etc. and so on. I own nothing herein except the bits conspicuously absent from canon.
> 
> Archiving: Absolutely nowhere except here, and that includes in translated form.
> 
> Author's Notes: This was written several years ago, like many of my HP stories, but I'm polishing them as I post them.

There is nothing more irritating than to watch hundreds of people having fun while you're determined to be miserable. It wasn't a sentiment familiar to Harry at all, but as he paced along the courtyard and past a carriage rocking obscenely, wondering how to best go about making someone else as miserable as he was himself, he felt an unsettling twinge of sympathy for the likes of Professor Snape. Speaking of which...

His dreaded teacher was standing in the middle of the yard, having an argument with Karkaroff. Harry strained to hear, but the few words he picked out didn't add up to anything useful at all.

Harry had gone outside to cool off from the sweaty, close atmosphere of the Great Hall. He despised the Yule Ball, and to watch the snow falling in the courtyard had seemed infinitely more appealing. More peaceful. He hadn't counted on Snape, of course. But now that he was here, and Karkaroff was leaving with a sneer that was but a pale imitation of Snape's best, he figured he might as well stay a little longer.

Pressed against a cool stone pillar with no regard to his dress robes, Harry watched Snape as he stalked the courtyard, wrenching open carriage door after carriage door to break up breathless, flustered couples and chase them off back inside the castle while gleefully deducting points. Harry thought it probably said a lot about his mental state that he should find this spectacle more entertaining than the party inside, not to mention far more satisfying. It further worried him that when Snape was being like this to someone other than himself, the man was actually rather amusing in his curmudgeonly ways. Snow was coming down in thick white flakes, with Snape striding through the serene display like a grumpy snow globe wizard. Harry was horrified when a giggle escaped him.

This was ridiculous. He should be inside, trying to flatten Parvati's feet. Or at least trying to enjoy her company. He should be trying to be one of the students fooling around in those carriages, for heaven's sake! Harry gave a snort of laughter; he really was rubbish at this romance thing.

"Potter!" came a rather familiar bellow from around the corner. Cursing under his breath, Harry turned to face his fate. "Come out here and bring along whoever is with you."

Harry stepped out and found himself with Snape's wand in his face. "It's just me, Sir."

Snape narrowed his eyes at him and looked over Harry's shoulder. "Where's your date?"

"Inside, I imagine, having a ball with one of the Bulgarians." Harry didn't have a clue why he felt it necessary to humiliate himself before Snape, considering the man had never had any trouble doing it for him.

Predictably, Snape's mouth twisted into a nasty smirk. "Pathetic, Potter."

"Yes, well." Harry looked him square in the face.

Snape was still smirking. "When I last saw you, you were practically glued to Mr Weasley's side. Managed to ask the wrong student to the ball, have you?"

Harry flushed all over. "What?" he squeaked. "What are you talking about?"

Snape snickered. "Not even you could be as dense as that."

"Ron?" Harry muttered. "What... I'm not... Ron's not... And I'm just... Not!"

"Really." Snape didn't even have the decency to phrase it as a question. He gave a snort of laughter, then turned away and stalked back out into the courtyard in search of more victims.

"Wait a minute!" Harry yelled, running after him and almost slipping on fresh snow. "Sir! You can't go around spreading rumours like that! I don’t need to end up on the cover of the _Daily Prophet_ again just yet, and..."

"Oh, _do_ shut up, Potter." Snape grabbed his arm and tossed him unceremoniously into the nearest carriage, following him inside and pulling the door shut behind them.

All the fight went out of Harry as he found himself sprawled in thick velvet cushioning, one hand clutching his wand, the other flat against the window. He stared, or attempted to stare, at Snape. It was almost entirely dark in the carriage, with only the dim lanterns dangling off the sides casting a slight glow around the windows. Harry was panting hard. "What did you do that for?"

Snape looked at him oddly, which was lost on Harry in the lack of illumination. "I have no intention of standing around in a snowstorm while you're coming to terms with your sexuality, Potter."

"I can't believe _you_!" Harry fumed. "How dare you?"

"Watch that tone, Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor for insolence."

Harry puffed out an angry breath. Well, so much for sympathizing with the insufferable git! This evening was bad enough without losing points for not being gay. He glared at Snape, shifting in the seat, and couldn't help noticing that it was extremely comfortable. But there was something remarkably... odd about huddling in here with Snape of all people. Every other occupied carriage held snogging couples, as Harry was well aware. The brief thought of Snape as his Yule Ball date crossed Harry's mind, and he couldn't suppress a snicker.

"Would you mind sharing what's so amusing?" Snape asked, sitting as stiff and upright as ever, apparently in complete denial of the comfortable blue velvet's existence.

Harry grinned. "I think I'd rather not, thanks."

"Suit yourself." Snape moved as if to exit the carriage, but was halted by Harry's hand on his arm. He glared back at his student. "What?"

Harry blushed, glad of the semi-darkness. "I'm not gay, you know."

Snape's eyebrow rose. "Why do you think this should interest me, Potter?"

Harry blinked. "You brought it up."

"Did I indeed?" Snape's smirk was lost on Harry as he leaned back in his seat. "And yet, it is you who continues to talk about it."

"What do you expect, when you make such assumptions?" And as an afterthought, "Sir."

"My expectations regarding your ability to see the obvious are rather low, as you're no doubt unsurprised to learn, Potter. I suggest you ponder the matter in private. You'll be less likely to take offence should it come up in future."

"Should it--" Harry started disbelievingly. "Why should it?"

Snape blinked. "You're quite serious." When Harry didn't reply, merely sitting there looking extremely puzzled, he added, "Did you find it at all difficult to ask a girl to the ball?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Harry protested. "Ron did, too."

"But you're Harry Potter - slayer of dragons," Snape's deep voice dripped sarcasm.

Harry flinched when he recognized the statement as nearly identical to one of Ron's.

"Why are you still sitting here, rather than to scurry back into the Great Hall, attending to your date?" Snape questioned.

"Because..." Harry frowned. "Because you shoved me in here, that's why."

"Am I holding you here against your will, Potter?"

Harry blushed.

"Would you rather be in the Great Hall with your date?" Snape asked silkily.

Harry lowered his eyes.

"Would you rather be _here_ with your date?"

Now Harry glared. "If you must know, I didn't want to ask Parvati. The girl I asked first already had a date."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Oh, do spare me your teenage angst, Potter!"

Harry ignored the mockery. "I should have probably asked her earlier," he said, softly enough that he didn’t think Snape had heard him. He was wrong.

"You should have. If you'd actually wanted her to say 'yes'."

Swallowing, Harry stared into the darkness. "That's rubbish."

One eyebrow rose in question, but Snape didn't speak. He did, however, lean forward far enough for Harry to actually make out his features.

Not liking the smug expression, Harry nevertheless asked, rather meekly, "Isn't it?"

The eyebrow remained raised, and one corner of Snape's mouth quirked upwards as well.

"You bas..."

"Another ten points from Gryffindor."

"I didn't even say it!" Harry protested, sliding forward to the edge of his seat to glare more effectively. His right knee bumped Snape's, and he quickly shifted it; it ended up between the man's thighs instead.

Snape leaned in closer as well, apparently unperturbed by their thighs rubbing together. He easily out-glared Harry. "That is why I didn't take twenty points, Potter."

Harry swallowed, his eyes fixed on Snape's, which were far too close to his own. With the faint lantern glow falling across Snape's face, he could see a glint of something in the man's eyes, and assumed it was probably malice. But then he realised that Snape was breathing rather raggedly against his lips, and that his breath was slightly sweet and spicy, and his eyes dropped to fix on Snape's mouth. The thin lips looked surprisingly soft in this light. "I'm gay?" he whispered weakly.

"Let's find out, shall we?" Snape's voice was little more than a husky growl against Harry's lips before he closed the last few inches between them.

Harry chose that moment to gasp in surprise, or maybe it was shock. Either way, his parting lips must have seemed too good an invitation, because Snape angled his head and deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking against Harry's own almost playfully.

With a groan, Harry pitched forward, his fingers gripping Snape's upper arms through layers of black wool, his neck arching. He curled his own tongue up against the invader, the wet roughness dizzying him. He had no idea what a kiss was supposed to taste like, but Snape seemed to taste unbelievably good, and he suckled on the tongue stroking his own.

The resulting groan echoed through Harry's chest, and the thought that he had caused Snape to make a noise like that was almost headier than the kiss itself. Long fingers buried themselves in his hair, and one hand rested at his waist, clutching the folds of his dress robes as much to keep him close as to keep him from getting even closer. But Harry tried. He shifted forward, sliding his thigh higher up along Snape's with the ultimate aim to climb into the man's lap, but clearly, he wasn't allowed. He might have howled in frustration were it not for the kiss which softened ever so slightly, the tongue flickering more gently against his own, then tickling lightly against the roof of his mouth, the edges of his teeth, the swollen flesh of his lips. And then it was leaving.

Harry panicked. He tried to hold on, opening his mouth wider to invite it back in, offering himself up with his head angled and his neck arched uncomfortably. But it was no use.

Snape's lips separated from Harry's with a soft, moist sound, and suddenly, there was too much oxygen. Too much space between them. It made Harry feel bereft, and he was panting, sucking in any remnants of Snape's moist breath from where it lingered between them.

"Please?" Harry whimpered.

Snape shushed him, gently. He released the folds of fabric at Harry's waist and, even more reluctantly, his fingers slipped out of the thick black hair in a slow caress, lingering at Harry's nape for a moment before closing on his shoulder and pushing him back.

Shaking all over and uncomfortably aroused, Harry stared across the carriage. Once again, he was unable to read Snape's expression, but he was sure the panting breaths he heard weren't all his own.

"I apologise, Mr Potter." Snape's voice sounded strange - raspy and melancholy at once. "That was both uncalled for and inappropriate."

Harry's eyes widened. He could still taste the man. He licked his lips and decided to speak before his famed courage would desert him. "And rather hot," he stated, his voice husky.

Snape made an odd noise and stiffened. "Mr Potter..."

"I know! I know," Harry quickly interrupted. "But if you don't mind my saying so, Professor, I think that was one of your better lessons."

A snort came from the opposite seat, oddly comforting in its familiarity. "Then be sure to remember it well."

There was no hint of hesitation in Harry's voice when he said, somewhat raggedly, "Oh, I will. I promise."

A hand reached out in the dark to squeeze Harry's knee for a moment, before hastily drawing back. "Twenty-one points to Gryffindor for paying attention."

Harry snickered softly.

"Good night, Mr Potter."

"Good night, sir." Harry watched helplessly as the door was flung open and, against a flurry of snowflakes and cold air, Snape exited the carriage without a backwards glance.

Harry was left behind in the dark, staring at a fogged up window and pondering the spoils of the night: one point gained for Gryffindor, and his newfound knowledge that while he might be gay, it definitely wasn't Ron he fancied. He didn't know whether to be grateful to Snape or whether to hate him more than ever. The softly muttered 'Bastard!' spilling from his smiling lips cleared up that particular confusion.

 

THE END


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